


Since the Beginning of Everything

by MagicMysticFantasy



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, More tags added as the week progresses, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-24 01:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicMysticFantasy/pseuds/MagicMysticFantasy
Summary: This is my collection of stories for Zutara Week 2019 based on the following prompts:Day 1 - GiftsDay 2 - SpeakDay 3 - ShatteredDay 4 - MentorDay 5 - YouthDay 6 - FoundDay 7 - EasierStories will be added throughout the week, as will tags and characters (so no spoilers!). Hope you enjoy, and happy Zutara Week!





	1. Day 1: Gifts

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is the first story in the series, which will all be gathered here. This is the first time I've been able to participate in Zutara Week, so I hope you enjoy what I've written! ^-^

Zuko tips his hand, watching the pieces of gold metal roll off his palm into his other hand, then repeats the motion. Katara is due any minute for his latest checkup, and he’s feeling more nervous than he expected at the thought of showing her what he’s been working on. He studies them intensely for flaws, though he knows by now, after hours doing exactly the same, that they are as flawless as can be humanly possible.

“Hey, stranger!”

The words are accompanied by a knock on the doorframe, and Zuko turns to see the waterbender herself standing there. He has the disconcerting feeling of both being calmed by her presence and more on edge. She smiles at him and walks in, gesturing for him to sit on his bed. Zuko gives a slightly strained quirk of his lips in response, easily complying with her request after several weeks of being healed by her after Azula’s lightning strike.

“Any pain? Numbness? Irritation?” she asks, already uncorking her waterskin as he uses his unoccupied hand to peel his robe away from his torso, exposing the white bandages beneath and keeping his other hand out of sight.

“No, none of that,” he says, watching her mouth thin the way it always does at the sight of his injury as she begins unwrapping them. “I think the redness of the scarring is even starting to go away. It didn’t seem as dark when I replaced the bandages last night.”

“You know, I think you’re right,” Katara says, eyeing the injury. She glances up and meets his eyes, smiling widely in relief, and suddenly Zuko’s having a slightly harder time breathing. “I’m glad to see it. I’ve never had to heal damage like that, so I was a little worried that I wouldn’t be able to, even as I was glad that you’d survived at all.”

Water flows to her hands in the next moment and begins to glow as she lays her hands on his chest, brow furrowed in concentration. Zuko can feel himself blushing at the proximity, and ends up looking everywhere but at her as she works to continue healing him. He rolls the pieces of metal in his hand, trying to think of how to bring it up.

Katara’s brow is furrowed in concentration, and all of a sudden something eases slightly in his chest and he relaxes a little more. Looking satisfied, Katara leans back and the water loses its glow. She directs it back to her waterskin, and glances over the scarring again for a moment, before reaching into her pocket and pulling out fresh bandages. She makes short work of rewrapping them - likely overkill at this point, though Zuko refuses to argue with the youngest waterbending Master in the last century, if not ever.

He’s able to shrug his robe back on fully by himself, and loosely ties it in the front with his free hand. He’s acutely aware of the small pieces of metal in his other one, but before he can stumble his way through offering them to Katara, she speaks up herself.

“Before I forget,” Katara begins hesitantly, glancing at him and gaining more confidence as she continues, “there’s something I’ve been meaning to give you.”

“Give me?” Zuko asks, blinking.

“It’s no dao swords,” Katara says, twisting to retrieve something out of sight, “but I thought you might be able to appreciate this until you can replace them.”

In her hands is a gleaming machete in the Water Tribe style. Zuko reaches out slowly and takes it gently with his free hand, testing the weight. It’s perfectly balanced, and the edge is sharp, even to the naked eye. The leather of the grip fits perfectly in his hand, and overall the weapon feels like it was made for him.

“It’s my first machete,” Katara comments lightly. Zuko’s head darts up in surprise, and she smiles a little at his shock. “Traditionally, it’s only used by men, but with all of our warriors gone some of us women in the South - those of us who took up hunting, anyway - started carrying them too. They can make a difference between life and death on the sea or the tundra. I was always better with my bending or a knife though, so I didn’t use it much.”

“It’s wonderfully made,” Zuko admits, seeing no flaws in craftsmanship.

“My grandfather on my mom’s side made it,” Katara reveals, causing Zuko’s eyes to widen yet again. “He made it as an offering to my grandmother’s family, to show his skill as a craftsman, and used it to prove he could provide for her and any children they had, as well as for his in-laws when they married.”

“I - Katara, I can’t accept this!” Zuko tries to hand it back, only for Katara to lean away with a frown. “This is more than just a part of your culture, this is a part of your family history! I can’t just take this from you!”

“You’re not taking it, I’m offering it,” Katara says stubbornly. “You’re my family too now, even if in a different way. I know you’re on edge, not being able to properly use your bending safely until the lightning issue is fully healed. This at least gives you another defence, in addition to . . . well, welcoming you unofficially to the family. You’re a part of the Gaang already, and Sokka and my dad like you enough that they agreed to give you this. You haven’t met Gran-Gran yet, but I know she’d like you - probably try to stuff you full of food too. So, you’re an honorary member of our Tribe now too, and this is the best we can do here to acknowledge that.”

Zuko feels his eyes try to burn, and only years of training himself to be blank-faced keeps it getting any further than that. When he feels like his expression is under control, he looks up from the weapon and meets Katara’s eyes. Instantly he wonders why he ever tried to hide it from her, since he can tell she sees right through it the moment their eyes meet.

“I - thank you. I’m honored,” he says roughly. Flicking his eyes away for a second, he clears his throat and rests the machete beside him on the bed. Lifting his closed hand into view for the first time since she arrived, he continues. “I actually have something for you too.”

When she reaches out her hand, he tips the skin-warmed gold piece into her palm. She pulls them closer, inspecting them quietly as Zuko’s nerves increase. It’s been a long time since he gave anyone a gift, and he forgot how nerve-wracking it could be.

“They’re hair beads and a hair pin,” he says compulsively. “I had to alter them a bit, since they used to be part of a necklace, but it was pretty simple to heat them up just enough to mold the metal and make them better purposed for you, even with my limited bending right now.”

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” Katara says, admiring the way the light reflects off them, before glancing at him and beginning to undo her hair. The blue beads of her hair loops get replaced first, quickly and easily. After that, it’s the coiled bun at the back of her head. As she’s redoing it, with the gold pin instead of her old one, she glances at him again. “You said it used to be a necklace?”

“Yeah,” Zuko says, glancing away again. “One of my mother’s. I managed to raid her rooms after finding out she’d disappeared. I - I didn’t want my father or Azula getting their hands on all of it. I managed to hide away a few things. I figured she’d rather it get put to better use than collecting dust, and . . . I think she would have liked you a lot. You’d probably have liked her as well, and I could imagine her gifting it to you anyway, so better in a form you’ll actually use, right?”

A cool hand on his forearm startles him into looking back at her again. Katara looks genuinely touched, even if there’s a hint of sympathy in her expression as well. His eyes are drawn to the gold in her hair, and he has to admit it’s a good color on her. Then again, everything is a good color on her.

“Thank you, Zuko. I know how much she means to you, and to give up one of the few things you have left of her couldn’t be easy.” She pauses, gauging his expression. “If you ever change your mind, don’t be afraid to ask for them back. I won’t mind.”

At that, Zuko smiles, shaking his head. He reaches over, squeezing her hand in reassurance.

“‘A gift given is a gift gone’,” he quotes. “My mother always said to never give anything away that you aren’t willing to part from and give up all ownership of, and that gifts are never meant to be given with the expectation of receiving something in return. I’ve thought about this, and I’m sure. The beads and pin are yours to do whatever you want with from now on.”

“Well, then thank you even more,” Katara smiles. Her eyes are very blue, he notices, made even more prominent by the new sparks of gold framing her face. Blue isn’t a very common color in the Fire Nation, but he’s come to appreciate the color in his time travelling and with the Gaang. The sudden ringing of the noon bells causes both of them to start, and glance towards the window.

Zuko shifts slightly, and Katara removes her hand from his arm and stands, brushing off her skirt. The atmosphere suddenly feels different than before, and Zuko feels a little flustered, unsure of what to do now that the gifts have been exchanged.

“I’m due back in the healing wing soon,” Katara says, breaking the silence. “I’ve been helping people recover, and there’s a man’s leg that I think he might be able to start walking on today, if today’s session goes well.”

“Oh,” Zuko says. “That’s good.”

Katara hums in response, gathering up the used bandages and winding them up neatly. When she finishes, she looks up at him again with a slight spark in her eyes.

“I’ll be busy the rest of the day, but I’ll see you again at dinner?” she asks. Zuko nods without really registering it, and she smiles in response. “Good. Remember to practice your bending, but  _ slowly _ , and if your injury acts up at all, stop whatever you’re doing immediately.”

“I will,” he promises easily, already used to yielding to the waterbender’s requests. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you,” Katara says easily, slipping forward too quickly to follow and resting her hand on one cheek and placing a quick kiss on the other. When she steps back, Zuko is certain he is as red as his clothes are, and that he looks like a stunned armadillo-shrew. Katara laughs and walks to the door, calling out over her shoulder with a mischievous grin as she leaves. “I’ll see you later, Zuko!”

It takes a moment for him to resume movement after she’s gone, and when he does, he lifts his hands to his cheeks for a moment, before he feels a soft, shy smile spread across his face without his permission. It’s a good thing he’s still seated on the edge of his bed, he thinks, because he flops back helplessly, covering his red face with his hands.

Remembering her promise to see him later, he can’t help but look forward to dinner, he thinks, and his smile grows even wider - especially when his eyes fall onto the machete a moment later. Maybe he can even get her to agree to teach him how to use it properly, too. For the first time in years, he wishes time would speed up.


	2. Day 2: Speak

“What are they saying?”

Katara turns to Zuko at his quiet murmur into her ear. He looks distinctly chilled in his borrowed parka, huddled deep in the thick furs they have draped over their laps. He’s sitting a little closer than he otherwise would even still, more susceptible to the cold than she is as a firebender, and trying to steal her heat for once. She hides a smile at the sight, following his line of vision across the feast to a nearby pair of warriors chatting off to the side. She eavesdrops for a moment, unsure of why they caught Zuko’s attention, before it suddenly clicks.

“Ah, right.” She glances back up at Zuko. “Not much, mostly they’re just talking about their hunt earlier today. They’re speaking  _ Walatan _ \- the Water Tribe language,” she elaborates at his blank look. He blinks, turning to glance at them again.

“I didn’t realize the Water Tribe had a separate language,” he admits quietly, listening with renewed interest. “I’ve only ever heard Tribespeople speak Common. Is . . . is it supposed to be a secret?”

Suddenly Katara sees a hint of nervousness enter his features as he flicks his eyes back to her. There is worry that he overstepped, and worry that she might get in trouble, and it’s as touching as it is amusing.

“No, it’s fine,” she smiles easily, patting his forearm lightly in reassurance. “Honestly anyone can learn, it’s just that most choose not to. We don’t use  _ Walatan _ very often and all of us speak Common fluently, so most non-Tribespeople who learn about it don’t think it’s worth the effort.”

“Would you be willing to teach me?” Zuko asks hesitantly, after a moment. “I’d be interested in learning, and after everything, I think it would be a nice way to reconnect to the Tribes and show respect.”

“I - sure, Zuko!” Katara grins, mildly taken aback at the request but growing eager at the thought. “It shouldn’t be too difficult; the grammar structure is pretty similar to Common. When would you like to learn?”

At this, Zuko looks away, his cheeks lightly pinked. Katara huffs a fond laugh at his awkwardness, now a familiar part of his personality. He considers the question for a moment, before looking up at her from under his fringe. He’s taken his hair out of its now-typical crown and bun to fit into the parka properly, and his hair is now hanging down in the same shaggy mess she’d been more familiar with.

“I guess whenever you want,” he offers. “When you start teaching me  _ Walatan _ , I could teach you how to read Fire language?”

“Fire language?” she blinks, and instantly curious she leans forward. “What’s that? Is it in your books?”

“Not exactly. It’s more of a performance?” Zuko’s face scrunches up at the explanation, clearly not happy with his description of it. “It’s something only firebenders and sometimes trained fire dancers can ever do, but there are certain ways that fire can be incorporated into a physical performance or ritual that can communicate ideas or stories. It’s . . . a little hard to explain without actually showing you.”

“So you’re going to show me?” Katara asks, smirking a little at the pink that rushed across Zuko’s cheeks.

“I mean - I guess I can, if you really want to see it,” Zuko mutters, refusing to meet her eyes. “I’m not very good at it though. I can do enough to teach you to read Fire, but it’s not - it won’t be a  _ proper _ Fire reading.”

Katara smiles, glancing back at the warriors who had switched back to Common. Considering the chilled boy in front of her, she knows her decision had been made as soon as he’d suggested the ideas.

“Sure, I’d love to!” She holds out her hand between them. “I’ll teach you to speak  _ Walatan _ if you teach me to read Fire. Deal?”

Zuko blinks at her hand for a moment, before he smiles in the small, shy way Katara has grown accustomed to. He took her hand and shook it, the sensation slightly muffled by the thick gloves he was wearing.

“Deal,” he says, gold eyes warm as they look at her, and Katara has to look away, feeling oddly flustered.

***

“Wait, so  _ Walatan _ literally translates to  _ water tongue _ ?” Zuko looks at her incredulously, recovering from his earlier bout of bending as he showed her what basically looked like either a kind of dance or ritualized bending to Katara. She still doesn’t quite get it yet, but she is beginning to get a hint of what he meant by it being a performance, but also not. At his question though, Katara just levels him with a look, raising her eyebrow.

“You’re teaching me something literally just called  _ Fire _ , and you’re upset with my language being called ‘water tongue’?” At her response, Zuko looks a little sheepish, settling back in a way that Katara knows means he got her point.

“Actually, I meant to ask you if you would help me with something.” Katara tips her head at Zuko’s comment, and catching sight of her curiosity, he continues. “I was trying to think of a way to thank the Tribe for hosting me these past few weeks. Before I have to return home, I was hoping to present it.”

She is rather touched by the thought, and she knows it would mean a lot to the tribe. Biting her lip, she leans back on the wall, her eyes sweeping over the rebuilt village as she thinks. With her own abilities and the help of their sisters and brothers from the North, they had managed to restore the village to its former glory without removing any of the personality and tradition that the past decades had lent to her home.

Katara straightens. Now there’s a thought.

“Maybe . . . maybe you could use what I’ve taught you to perform the Dance of Dolphin-otters,” she suggests, turning her attention back to him. At his skeptical expression, she quickly continues. 

“It’s a traditional dance that we’ve been performing for centuries, and the story is sung in  _ Walatan _ . It tells the story of how Tui, the moon, saw La, the ocean, and how he was living alone in the dark since she was too far away to talk to. La wasn’t happy alone, and he was unable to look away from the darkness of the abyss he lived in. As the years went on, it got worse. Finally Tui couldn’t take it anymore, so she took her own laughter, the friendliness of the stars, and the playfulness of the clouds, and she made dolphin-otters to be his companions. They swam down to La, laughing, and startled, he looked up and saw Tui. The dolphin-otters drew him out to play in the light, and for the first time in ages, he laughed. From then on, he lived on the surface of the waves, looking up at and reaching to Tui, swearing to never turn away from her kindness and light again.”

There is a moment of silence as Zuko takes in the story. After a moment, he begins to nod slowly, a considering look on his face.

“That’s a beautiful story,” he says quietly, before his brow furrows slightly. “I would be honored to do it, but would it be enough?”

“It would be,” Katara reassures, before continuing. “But, I was also thinking it would be perfect for you to use Fire in, if you wanted. And . . . it’s also typically a duet/dual performance, even though it can be done by one person. I could do it with you, if you wanted?”

Zuko’s sudden exhale almost makes her jump, and she glances at him to see that he’s looking at her with an expression of such relief that she has to laugh a little.

“Yes. Please.” He shakes his head. “I’m not even sure where to start, but I do know I want to do it. Help would be amazing, though. How will you handle the Fire part of the performance though?”

“I’ll figure something out,” she promises, before smirking at him. “But more importantly, how is your singing?”

***

“Before we begin tonight’s feast, I would like to offer my gratitude to Fire Lord Zuko for his willingness to reconnect and make reparations toward the Southern Water Tribe for everything that we suffered in the war,” Katara’s father says, speaking out over the rebuilt banquet hall as Tribespeople and Fire Nation shipsmen alike listen. “And, as an effort of goodwill, not only has he done his best to learn and engage with our culture over the past month, but he has also prepared something for us tonight, with the help of my daughter, Katara. Please lend them your attention for the next while, until they are finished.”

She can feel the attention of everyone in the hall turn to her and Zuko as they stand across the room from each other, watching the musicians get up to stand along the walls. Katara scans the hall momentarily, before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to focus on the upcoming performance.

The drums begin, and Katara locks eyes with Zuko. She can see some of the nerves in his expression, but at her excited grin, they seem to drain away and he gives her a small smile of his own.

She waits, listening to the beat, then springs into motion in unison with Zuko and letting the familiar  _ Walatan  _ lyrics fall from her lips easily. The week of practice has clearly done their job, because she barely has to think of the moves or the words as she reaches for her bending without even needing to look at Zuko to know he is doing the same. Flutes kick in at the same time as their elements come into play, welcoming them with a flurry of lighter sounds.

Fire and water weave around each other in the air, and Katara lets her body move instinctively to the beat as she focuses on the bending that Zuko had taught her. She has to make it match, otherwise it will defeat the entire purpose of all their practice. Flicking her fingers, Katara sends a spike of water out at the same time Zuko lets a tongue of flame flare out, and they spin around each other.

As they move, Katara can feel flames twining around her, just far away enough from her skin to be pleasantly warm. Her own awareness of water lets her know that her modified water whips are similarly surrounding Zuko as he follows the steps of the dance with her. His pronunciation of the lyrics is perfect, and she can hear the harmony they’re creating over the sound of the instruments - as well matched together as their elements are acting at the moment.

The instruments pick up, and with them, so do their movements. Katara can feel sweat beginning to bead on her brow, but she is having too much fun to care about that, or even the fact that the rest of the tribe is watching their performance.

When she had first started learning Fire from Zuko, she had been a little skeptical, even if she was excited to learn. But now, having seen the demonstrations he’d given her, adapted the moves to waterbending, and currently performing them herself, she can understand exactly what he meant by Fire telling a story and sharing emotions.

There is a passion in the movements, and an intensity of emotion that she hadn’t been expecting. Though, it makes sense, she thinks, catching a gleam of fiery golden eyes for a moment. Fire is the element of emotion, and it is clear in every movement firebenders make. It had been difficult to figure out how to match that to the calm fluidity of waterbending, but complementing Zuko’s fire rather than matching it was what she found worked the best.

The crescendo of sound begins, and Katara is startled to realize the performance is nearing its end. For the first time since their dance of bodies, voices, and bending began, she meets Zuko’s eyes as he snags one of her hands. They spin away from each other only to pull each other back again, and though their grip shifts, the connection never breaks.

Their bending doesn’t suffer for the sudden lack of movement either. They play off of each other’s strength and presence, using each other to balance and assist as they twist themselves to keep their interwoven bending moving properly.

Katara forgets for a moment that she is not Tui, gifting laughter to La so he can be happy. She forgets that Zuko is not La, swearing himself to the moon for brightening his dark nights. It feels like only moments later that she spins in a tight turn to end up face to face with Zuko as the music cuts off and their bending falls away.

There is thunderous applause around them, but she can barely hear it over the panting of her breath and the blood rushing in her ears as she searches Zuko’s eyes. He’s in a similar state to her, sweat running down his face and neck from the exertion just as much as it is for her. There’s a wide, unrestrained grin on his face as he looks back at her, and it’s the first time she’s seen him so openly unguarded, and her breath catches even further.

“ _ Ui eona wila _ ,” Zuko suddenly murmurs, too quiet for anyone else in the room to hear and gold eyes warmer than they ever have been.  _ I love you _ . Katara feels her eyes widen before a sense of sudden clarity takes over her.

In front of everyone - her father, her brother, her entire tribe and the Fire Nation shipsmen who accompanied Zuko here - she reaches up and cups his face in her hands, pulling him down to press her lips to his.

She’s vaguely aware of the momentary pause in the cheering, before it surges back twice as loud as before. She’s pretty sure she can hear Sokka’s yelling in the background, but her attention is focused on the boy she just kissed and is now pulling back from.

“ _ Ui eona wila _ ,” she replies, beaming, allowing her bending to dance around her in her equivalent of the Fire expression of that same sentiment.

Zuko’s face is redder than she's ever seen him, but at her words and the recovery from the kiss, he ducks his head shyly, though his grin is brighter than ever and oddly boyish. He flicks his gaze at the bonfire in the center of the room, and Katara looks over to see a small section of the flames mimic her waterbending.

She laughs a little at that, feeling herself blush. Glancing up at him, she smiles. Things won’t be instantly perfect, especially since he’s about to leave, but looking ahead, Katara thinks they can become something good. Whatever comes after this, she knows they can figure it out together.


End file.
